


Like a Fish Needs a Bicycle

by ChapstickLez



Series: Fishverse [2]
Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-03
Updated: 2011-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChapstickLez/pseuds/ChapstickLez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is told entirely in drabbles – 100 word sections by characters, and mentions each episode. Some are serious, some are funny, and each chapter is rather short. But you get Jo and Bass!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Fish Needs a Bicycle

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not Tess Gerritsen, but thank you to her and TNT for the show Rizzoli & Isles. Now go watch the show. And buy the DVDs.
> 
> Drabbles to hold you over until Season Two picks up. Set in the same world as “If Wishes Were Fishes” (wherein Jane and Maura don’t start seeing each other until between ‘I Kissed a Girl’ and ‘Born to Run.’).

**See One, Do One, Teach One**

_Jane_

Spring was complicated.  She wanted it to be easy, but with spring came the new crazies and the bodies.  Winter was, generally, quieter, and most deaths were weather related.  But spring, spring brought out the crazy in people, and the crazy brought out the killing, and the killing brought out Rizzoli.  When her phone rang that night, Jane knew right away, it was a crazy.  Last spring had involved a car being driven through a pawn shop, in order to kill the owner.  This spring brought back her nightmare.  She saw the car pull up.  This spring, she had Maura.

_Maura_

She could fix a broken nose.  She could tell you why someone died.  She could diagnose nearly every disease in the book.  Keeping as still as she could, Maura peeked at Jane, those scarred hands shoved up and under the pillow, her face tense, even in deep sleep. She couldn’t cure fear.  She couldn’t chase away the fears harbored in her best friend’s uneasy mind.  “You’re safe,” she whispered to Jane.  Perhaps it was her imagination, but a line between Jane’s eyes eased and her sleep deepened.  Then again, maybe she actually could cure Jane’s fear just by being there.

_Korsak_

They probably thought he couldn’t see it.  They probably assumed he was old, worn out, and wasted.  But he saw Janie, his Jane, like a daughter, in pain, and he could do nothing about it.  She had shoved him away, discarding him like his four ex-wives.  Except when he nearly died, she was there for him, making sure his pets were cared for, even taking Jo Friday on her own.  But it wasn’t the same Jane he’d brought up from the Academy, and it worried him. He wondered if this new Jane’s life would have room for him anymore.

* * *

**The Boston Strangler Redux**

_Frankie_

His sister had told him he was never going to make detective if he kept jumping to conclusions.  He’d failed the exam more times than Korsak had been married, but fewer than he’d failed the sergeants example.  Honestly, Frankie wasn’t sure what that meant.  The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to start paying better attention.  So when he watched his sister teaching Maura how to hold a baseball bat in the backyard of their parents house, he said nothing at all to anyone, especially his mother.  Don’t jump to conclusions, she’d told him, after all.

_Angela_

“She’s not very sporty, Jane,” she mentioned, watching Maura try to field a softball from Frankie Jr. for the umpteenth time.

“She did dance and fencing in school.”  Jane was immediately defensive, and Angela arched her eyebrows.  What now?

“Those aren’t sports.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.  Then she dared me to hold a pencil with my arm straight for as long as she could.”  Jane demonstrated, just holding one arm out.

Angela laughed.  “Hah, she beat you, didn’t she?”  They watched Maura finally catch the grounder.  “I like her.  You think she’d date Frankie?”

Jane choked on her beer.

_Frost_

It was the twenty-first century.  Jane wasn’t the only female detective in Boston any more than Barry was the only African-American.  Or black.  His mother argued that their ancestors  weren’t from Africa anyway.  Having a crazy, racist, little old lady call him Affirmative Action and Jane a dyke was not on his list of fun afternoons.  But Jane hardly even flinched when the woman said it, Jane just took that hit and kept going.  Barry couldn’t even handle a dead body without getting sick.  A little part of him totally wanted to be Jane when he grew up.

* * *

**Sympathy For The Devil**

_Maura_

“You’re gorgeous, my friend.”  As soon as she said it aloud, Jane asked why Maura was laughing.  Maura started to review every single conversation she could remember.  Ah.  Normal people didn’t just say their best friend was beautiful.  Especially in that little black dress.  Absolutely stunning, in every way.  
After Jane left, saying she was sleeping with her nightlight on, Maura considered just going over to Jane’s apartment, but she decided Jane would have asked if she’d wanted Maura over.  When her phone rang in the middle of the night, Maura didn’t consider getting dressed.  Her gorgeous friend needed her.

_Korsak_

“You know, the stupid thing about it, is if he’d said that, I dunno, five years ago, I’d be Mrs. Joey Grant,” she sighed, explosively.

“And I’d be investigating you for the murder of Mr. Joe Grant,” replied Korsak.

Jane laughed.  “Nah, you’d totally let me get away with it.”

“Are you suggesting that I’d risk my career for a skinny piece of ass like yours?”

“I’m sayin’ you’d totally cover for me if I’d killed Grant, just like I had your back when you and the third ex-Mrs.-Korsak called it splitsville.”

Korsak smiled.  Yeah, he totally would.

* * *

**She Works Hard for the Money**

_Frank_

He listened to his wife tell him all about how pretty the campus was, and how smart all the children were, and lament about how their children had not gone on to higher education.  “I just wanted to be the first one to have kids in college, Frank.  Instead I gotta hear it from my sister every year about how her kids went to real college.”  
Alone in his van, Frank pulled out a battered envelope from one of his files.  In it, a once crumpled letter from BCU, to Ms. Jane Rizzoli, waited.  “We are pleased to inform you…”

_Maura_

Utter and absolute abhorrence was Maura’s first emotion.  ”Absolutely not!  I can’t believe you’d even suggest we do such a thing!” she snapped, standing up and walking out of the living room.  There was nothing more to speak about.  
From the living room couch, she heard Jane grumble, “Jeeze.  You’d think I’d asked her to kill someone.”  
Maura turned back around and stuck her head into the living room, “We are not doing karaoke.  Not tonight, not tomorrow night.  Never.”  Angry as she was, Maura was certain the vehemence dripped from her tongue.  ”You know very well I can’t sing!”

* * *

**Money for Nothing**

_Jane_

She watched her stare at the so called “atrocity” on the plate with open horror.  They were sitting in a restaurant the likes of which her friend had probably never been in before and, if Jane was to judge by her expression, never again.  Plastic covered cotton table-clothes, in red and white checks, covered the press-board linoleum tables.  The chairs were hard plastic.  There had been an argument about putting napkins down on the seats before sitting, which Jane had won, and about the lack of utensils but in the end Maura bit into her very first spucky.

_Maura_

In the end, she went to the funeral alone.

She’d heard Jane make comments about how, after Hoyt, she was a different Jane.  New Jane.  She saw everything differently and felt different about things she’d taken for granted.

Looking at the Fairfields and the other various families of wealth and class, Maura felt disconnected.  These were not her people, they were not her family.  They did not have her back.  They had class, style and a lack of substance.

She was New Maura.

She left the funeral just as she’d come.

She was alone in body, but not in spirit.

_Frankie Jr._

“Ma chased me out,” he whined to his sister.  Their father was sitting on the back stoop, looking at his mediocre yard, while the coals burned.  
“Me too,” commiserated Jane.  “What’s goin’ on, Pop?”  But their father did not answer.

The siblings shared a look and immediately played rock-papers-scissors.  Losing, Frankie got on his hands and knees to let Jane stand on his back and peek in the back kitchen window.  “What can you see?” he hissed at her.

Jane’s laughter sent them both tumbling to the ground, “She’s MAKING the Polynesian juice!  Right in the kitchen sink!”

_Korsak_

He eyed Frost from across the room.  “I can’t believe you ate the clams.”

“Really?  You’re still on that?”

“Those were disgusting.  Uncooked, slimy–”

“Hey, more for me.”

“I’m just saying that I can think of better things to put in my mouth.”

They both paused at that statement.  “That’s what she said,” choked Frost, trying to hold back laughter.

Within seconds they were both laughing.  “Jane’d never have touched ‘em with a ten foot pole.”

Frost wiped his face, “I dunno, Dr. Isles said she ate the fish.”

“Yeah, Rizzoli style, no doubt,” smirked Korsak.

“Is there another way?”

* * *

**I Kissed A Girl**

_Jane_

Getting the dress cleaned had not been as expensive as Jane would have thought.  Apparently when you spent more on a dress than she’d spent on her first car, they were easier to clean.  Who knew.  She hung the bag in her closet, next to the little black dress her mother had insisted she buy and stared at them.  Lots of pants and two dresses.  What about the skirt-suits for court?  Which she never wore because the DA said she looked more powerful in pants.  Maura made dresses look great!  It sucked when your best friend was so hot.

_Maura_

Jane was at the grill in Maura’s backyard, monitoring the well-being of their dinner.  While the truth was that Maura was thinking about Jane’s body, when the detective asked what she was thinking about, the medical examiner smoothly avoided the question.  “I kept the dress,” she admitted.

Jane startled and turned around.  “The … dress?”  She made a motion with her hands, indicating breasts.

“Yes.  I thought it had a lovely effect on my cleavage.”

“I’ll say,” muttered Jane, under her breath, and returned to grilling.

When you couldn’t lie, you had to find different ways of avoiding uncomfortable truths.

* * *

**Born to Run**

_Jane_

“Sex is good,” she informed Maura, over breakfast.

“I’m glad you think so.  I’d hate to find out that you didn’t enjoy yourself last night.”

The blush hit Jane like a ton of bricks.  “That wasn’t what I meant.  I mean, it was good!  You were great … you know, I’m gonna shut up now.”  She paid attention to her plate, clearing it of eggs, until Maura reached over and touched her hand.

Instinct.  Jane moved her hand so she and Maura were holding hands across the breakfast table, and Jane smiled like a doofy teenager.

“I knew what you meant.”

_Jo_

Ball!  Ball!  Ball ball ball ball ball ball ball!  Throw the ball!  Come on, throw the ball!  You can do it!  BALL!  YAY!  She threw the ball!  Chase the ball!  Chase chase chase.  Run!  Catch the ball!  CAUGHT IT!  I am a good dog, I am I am I am!  Bring the ball back!  
“Who’s a good dog?” said her owner, affectionately scratching her ears.  “That’s a good dog, Jo!”

“Can I throw it?” asked the other one.

Both Jo and her owner stopped to look at the other.  “Sure, Maura,” said her owner, and handed the ball over.

BALL!

* * *

**I’m Your Boogie Man**

_Jane_

They’d been having a serious, teenager style, make-out session on Maura’s porch for at least half an hour.  As the sun started to set, Jane realized just how long it had been, and joked, “Maybe we should come up for air.”  
Maura looked up at Jane, her head tilted ever so slightly to the left.  Her skin was flushed, but she wasn’t out of breath at all.  For a while, Maura’s expression wavered between introspective, diagnostic and confused.  Finally she asked, completely seriously, “I’m perfectly capable of breathing through my nose while we kiss, Jane.  Is your nose stuffy?”

_Angela_

The door was locked.  Double locked.  With the security lock thrown.  ”Honestly, Jane, you’re taking this too far!”  Angela banged the door once more, for emphasis, and then closed it, waiting and fuming until Jane opened the door.

“Ma, stop pissing off my neighbors.”

Looking around, Angela was surprised.  ”Where’s Maura?”

“At home.  Why?”

The only reason, besides Maura being here, for Jane to lock the door was if her daughter was scared.  Taking in the circles under Jane’s eyes, Hoyt was bothering her again.  Without a word, Angela wrapped her arms around her daughter, and said “I love you.”

* * *

**The Beast In Me**

_Bass_

The dog was not there.  Good.  Not that he minded the dog, but she was the antithesis of all things tortoise, and therefore unwelcome every time Jane came over.  He had spent hours trying to make Maura feel better, to comfort her somehow, but the frustrating woman just sat and stared at nothing.  When Jane arrived with bags of food (not take out) and no dog, clearly well prepared, Bass immediately headed to his sleeping area. Jane knew how to take care of Maura.  Hopefully Maura would feel better soon, as her discomfort was throwing Bass off his eating regime.

_Angela_

“Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?” asked Angela, choosing her words very carefully.  Her daughter had called to apologize, of all things, for not being able to make it to dinner.  Apparently something was ‘up’ with Maura.  It was the same thing that had caused Jane to take Angela’s leftovers and leave Jo with Angela (to Frank’s annoyance).

The exasperated exhale over the phone told Angela volumes.  ”No, Ma.  I just … You know what?  No.  I gotta go.  Love you, bye.”

Yes, there was definitely something Jane wanted to tell Angela, she just wasn’t ready yet.

* * *

**When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang**

_Maura_

After what was possibly the worst day of her life, Maura sat in her house, alone, staring at the telephone.  She tried to organize her thoughts into something coherent, and realized this was the sort of day where she would find comfort at the Dirty Robber, sitting with Jane and laughing about the horrors of their shared day.  She couldn’t do that today.  A craving to talk to someone, but not anyone, was undeniable.  Slowly, inexorably, she reached out for her phone and dialed a number that she had long since memorized.

The phone picked up.  ”Hello, are you busy?”

_Frank_

Frank Rizzoli liked his house, he liked his life, and he liked things they way they were.  Life was life for a reason, and what it all meant, well, that was someone else’s job.  Frank’s job was to be a good plumber, a good husband and a good father.  He liked to tell himself that he was good at all three of those things, even though work was sparse, he fought with his wife sometimes, and his children, well.  One was out of jail and two were in the hospital.  Frank Rizzoli was not ashamed to pray, in this moment.


End file.
